I was on retreat not long ago and spent a fair amount of time on the porch. This poem arose out of that time. Porch–I like to think of it as a verb rather than a noun.
Porch
The pa-rum, pa-rum of the floor boards
under the weather rough rocker,
undulating hum of the distant highway,
pa-rum, pa-rum, pa-rum,
buzz of the hummingbird come to feed,
swoosh of a squirrel daredeviling tree to tree,
pa-rum, pa-rum,
hallelujah shake of poplar leaves,
Tower of Babel bird calls,
pa-rum,
silent knitting of soul.